


Swish and Spit

by WritLarge



Series: Inception Bingo 2017 [9]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Community: inceptiversary, F/M, Fish out of Water, Inception Bingo, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 04:18:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11798223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritLarge/pseuds/WritLarge
Summary: “I don’t understand the spitting.”Mal laughed softly and leaned in, the cloud of her perfume enveloping him.“If you drank everything you tasted, you’d fall over before half the night was through.”





	Swish and Spit

“I don’t understand the spitting.”

Mal laughed softly and leaned in, the cloud of her perfume enveloping him.

“If you drank everything you tasted, you’d fall over before half the night was through.”

Dom looked around the room. Sure enough, everyone was using the little gleaming buckets at each station. Ugh.

Mal lead him by the elbow to the next table, chatting amiably with the woman there about the Malbec they were offering. He peered down into the bucket and frowned. How was he meant to do it without making a mess?

“Dominic?” Mal held out a glass for him.

“Thanks.” He performed the same manoeuvre as always – swirl, sniff, and sip. He knew how to taste wine. It was the swish and spit that perplexed him. Sampling a few dozen varieties in one evening was new. It was a massive event.

He gave it go, spitting the wine out with too much force and nearly causing the contents to splash out of the bucket. Shit.

Mal didn’t say anything. She only patted him on the arm and moved them along.

The next time he was too wary, hesitating and dribbling down his chin. He’d had to adjust his tie to cover the drops on his shirt that he hadn’t caught in time.

“You’ll get it, ma puce,” Mal kissed his cheek. 

He didn’t.

Another couple of humiliating attempts later and they met up with Mal’s parents, Miles and Simone. After the requisite embraces had been made, Dom spied a paper cup in Miles hands.

“Why do you have a paper cup?” he asked while Mal was occupied extolling the virtues of the Chianti they’d just tasted to her mother.

“To spit in, my boy. I hate those bloody buckets.”

“Christ, I thought it was just me.” 

“Disgusting things, aren’t they?” Miles shook his head. “The spitting takes a bit of getting used to, it does. Mind you don’t get your shirt.”

“Where were you half an hour ago?” Miles chuckled and pointed out a table where Dom could procure a cup of his own. Mal didn’t even notice he’d gone.

“Ready to continue?” He took the arm she offered, paper cup in hand.

“Absolutely.”


End file.
